


Forever, Again

by heckin_heck, Meriyanna, sordid



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Time Travel, Viktuuri Big Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 04:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11246634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckin_heck/pseuds/heckin_heck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meriyanna/pseuds/Meriyanna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sordid/pseuds/sordid
Summary: How did this happen? WHY did this happen? Most importantly, where was Viktor?





	Forever, Again

**Author's Note:**

> Contributors are below:  
> AO3  
> Artist: sordid  
> Writer: Meriyanna  
> Beta: Heckin_heck  
> Tumblr urls  
> Artist: purefake  
> Writer: Meriyanna  
> Beta: fandomingthefuckout
> 
> Check out the yurionicebigbang Tumblr page for the art for this fic and other fics in the big bang!

Forever, Again

2nd of December, 2009

 

    The morning light filtered through his window—lucky for him since his alarm hadn’t gone off; he swore he’d set it last night. Blinking the sleep away, Yuuri could now take in his room, lit golden and pink from the sun. It was cold without Viktor next to him. The bed felt somehow smaller without him; small and lonely as it did when Viktor woke early, letting Yuuri sleep in. He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his phone, already mentally forming a text to apologize for being late, but his arm grasped at thin air. The movement pulled him from the bed and he landed on the floor, face-first.

    He groaned, sighed, then finally pulled himself up. Where had his nightstand disappeared to? Had Viktor been rearranging furniture again? He looked at the bed and his heart stopped.

    Why was he here? Turning slowly, warily, he tried to grasp what he was seeing. How had it gone unnoticed before? He was in his room, his room in _Japan_ . His room in _Yuutopia_ in _Hasetsu_ in _Japan_. He clutched at his heart as its beating became painful. Another hand fell to his stomach as if he could prevent the slow build of nausea with the touch. What happened? Why was he here? Where was Viktor? Before he knew it his breath was coming too fast and he became dizzy. Dizzy was bad; dizzy meant that this wasn’t a dream.

    In the corner of his vision he saw a blinking light. It was his old phone. Cold, agonizing fear gripped him so tightly that it took three attempts to pull the cell phone from the charger. Shaking hands flipped the phone open and finally his knees gave out. The date at the top couldn’t be real. He let the phone slip through his fingers as the final blow was dealt.

    “Yuuri, Minako is waiting for you. She’s not very happy that you’re late for practice.”

    So it was true.

    Somehow he was back, _way back_.

    Back to the beginning of his career, back before he became anything. Before Viktor gave him everything. As his new—or old—reality sunk in, he had to ask himself the question that, depending on the answer, might break him completely.

    “Was it all a dream?”

    Shaky hands pulled on his clothes, guided by muscle memory as his brain focused on something else entirely. It couldn’t be a dream; the memories were too clear. Every emotion, word, and touch seemed to be ingrained into his very being. Even now he could hear Vikku calling out to him from the kitchen of their shared apartment in Moscow to ask whether or not ‘his little piggy’ wanted breakfast. He could feel the texture of their expensive silk sheets (“Yuu-chan, it’s _important_ . I _need_ silk so the sheets don’t pull my hair out while I sleep!”)

    His eyes burned at the memory. But was it real or had it been a wish his mind created in his dreamscape? Another rap at the door called his attention.

    “Yuuri. Mom’s just barely stopping Minako from barging up here herself.” His sister’s voice sounded aloof as usual, but the familiarity comforted him.

    It had been two years since he’d seen Mari—or had it? Nausea rolled through his stomach pushing bile dangerously high, burning in his esophagus. The smoke slowly drifting into his room exacerbated it, but he had to see her. Movement threatened to bring his stomach acid high enough to vomit but he pushed through, swinging the door open.

    “Yuuri?”

    Mari looked to be the embodiment of her voice. Heavy lidded eyes denoting her detached perspective on the world. Though her voice hid her emotions well, she expressed what she needed to with her choice of words.

    “You look like crap.”

    She took a final drag from her cigarette before tossing it into the small pocket ashtray she kept in her pocket.

    Yuuri couldn't find his voice: every familiarity was a reminder of his current reality. She leaned back against the wall and regarded him with a raised brow.

    “So, what, you getting nervous about leaving?”

 _Leaving._ That's right, this would be the year he left for the states. Again, his stomach swirled with each new wave of emotion. His sister waited patiently for an answer, ever laid back, ever ready to avoid one of her tasks at the onsen.

    “I-I guess I just feel sick?”

    Hearing it again he realized his voice didn't sound like his own. Rather, it didn't sound like the voice he'd had yesterday. Yesterday he was twenty-six and trying to figure out how to get his husband to come to terms with being thirty in just a few days (“Vikku, your hair is not going to magically disappear on your birthday”).

    “Uh huh.”

    She stood up straighter, pushing herself away from the wall and leaning in.

    “Yeah, I guess I believe that. Want me to tell Minako?”

    Yuuri winced. If he ever had the faintest idea that he _might_ be sick Minako-sensei would accuse him of trying to slack off. He didn't know if a berating from her was something he could handle in his current predicament.

    “No. I'll go down.”

    She shrugged her shoulders and headed down the hallway first, hand fidgeting toward the pocket he knew she kept her cigarettes in. It was a new habit for her but one she picked up quickly. He’d always thought she was so susceptible mainly due to the boredom of working in a place that saw fewer and fewer visitors each year. Minako’s loud voice invaded his ears as he stepped into the entryway.

    “He’ll get fat in America, Hiroko! Just him, all by himself with just his coach that won’t know how much he overeats.”

    Yuuri sighed softly, but all eyes turned to him anyway. He tried not to flinch under the penetrating gaze of his dance teacher and failed. She marched over to him to grab his wrist, a little too tightly, and swung him around toward the door. The snow blanketing the ground promised an undesirable chill and sent alarm bells ringing in his head.

    “Ah, Minako-sensei! I don’t have my jacket!”

    “Shivering burns calories.”

    Her disgruntled rebuttal was a typical reaction from her, tempestuous as she was. Her moods were easy to come and just slightly less easy to go, although never were they overly unreasonable or damaging. After a few dozen stomps through the snow she released Yuuri’s wrist and let him dart back to the onsen to retrieve his coat.

    They walked silently to the studio, each step adding a little more darkness to his inner turmoil. He was starting to remember this day. It had started out differently than before, in his dream or in his previous reality. Minako had been melancholy in that memory; happy to spend the last few days with him before he left, sad that he would be missing the winter holiday’s. It was all so confusing.

    Yuuri followed her orders as best as he could but the disorientation was still there. He didn’t have time to grasp what was happening to him before he was forced to interact with people. He had woken up six years into his past with no indication as to what happened. There was no information to go off of and yet his mind was creative enough to think of so many possibilities.

    He could have dreamed it all. That was the most depressing of the options and—heartbreakingly—the most plausible. Not only would it mean that a large fraction of his life wasn’t real, but that he was so obsessed with Viktor Nikiforov that he’d created an entire life with him in his dreams.

    He could be dreaming _now_ , though he didn’t know how possible that was. Everything felt so real and clear, but then, so had the past six years, the six years that had happened after the day he was currently living. The circles he was drawing in his mind gave him a headache. It was too convoluted an option to make sense of.

    The idea that felt the least possible, the one he wished to be true with his whole heart, was that somehow he had gone back in time. He’d obviously never heard of something so ridiculous happening but he supposed that someone running around saying they’ve come back from the future wouldn’t be too believable. But if he _had_ he would have much more perspective in the coming years than he did before.

    He thought of Viktor again and his steps faltered. Minako was quick with her comments and he pulled himself back up to try again. Viktor wouldn’t know him. He would have to spend three to four years pretending that half of his very soul was intertwined with a beautiful, silver-haired, Russian. He would have to watch him on the news as people speculated about his personal life. He would have to interact with him at skating events and prevent himself from flying into his arms.

    This time as his world dizzied and blackened he did throw up. Without food in his stomach the liquid was just acid and bile, setting his throat on fire and putting tears in his eyes.

    “Yuuri!”

    Minako rushed to him, guiding him to his hands and knees just before his legs gave out. She checked his eyes, his pallid complexion, and left him for a moment to wet a hand towel putting it on his neck. She rubbed his back as his breathing steadied. When the tears finally dried, and his brain had enough oxygen to take in the situation, he was appalled.

    “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean- I mean I didn’t know-!” He was silenced by a look from his instructor.

    “Yuuri. You didn’t tell me you were feeling ill. I've been pushing you for _hours_.”

    “Sorry.” He said weakly, leaning back onto his heels.

    He let out a shaky breath and watched Minako get up again to grab another towel. She threw it on the floor in front of him and he immediately moved to clean up his mess. His hand was smacked away.

    “Don’t worry about it. Just go home and get some rest.”

    Her hand moved in slow motions, making sure to pick up every drop of his embarrassment. He stayed as he was, arms reached out in an attempt to help, but Minako was ignoring him. Sluggishly he pushed off of his knees to stand, dropping the towel around his neck, and shuffled over to his jacket and shoes. It felt odd to leave so early. They had only been working for a little less than an hour. Memories, if he could call them memories, of this day in his previous life showed a different path. One where he’d stayed, attempting to glean as much information from her as he could before he left for Detroit.

    This time he headed slowly to the door.

    “Yuuri,” he turned to see her sitting back again, apparently finished, “I mean it, go home.”

    Nodding quickly he turned away to hide the blush on his cheeks. She knew him too well—he’d never been able to hide much from her. His first thought after she told him to go had been to go to Ice Castle, as he always did when he wanted to think. But he really wasn’t in any condition to skate, though he had brought his equipment along out of habit.

    He intended to listen to her at first, he really did, but Ice Castle and Home were both in the same direction. Before he could think about what he was doing his feet were leading him toward the rink, though he might have chosen that path no matter what. It was always the place he chose to go when he felt alone or worried or less-than and it felt like the only place he could be to think through what was happening.

    He was relieved, however, when he arrived. Figure skating hours at Ice Castle had started at sunrise and would be ending around noon, he would barely get any time in before open skate. On days he didn’t practice with Minako he was here from dawn until well past lunchtime. Sometimes his childhood friends would skate with him, commenting on the choreography of his step sequence or admiring his jumps.

    Neither Nishigori was in sight, possibly maintaining another part of the rink or scrambling after one of their triplets. They were comfortable with him using the rink as he pleased during these hours so he didn’t wait to get on the ice.

 _This is what I need_.

    The slight scrape of his skates on the ice was more comforting than his bed. The sounds mimicked the rhythm of his movements, creating a certain music all its own. It filled his head so that all his worries were separate from him like a mosquito net over a bed, unable to completely touch him. They were easier to deal with that way.

    His body moved on instinct, performing a routine as his mind took a break. While the confusion and fear had taken a backseat, he could feel the gears in his subconscious still turning, still trying to make sense of it all. Vaguely, he noticed the swelling of admiration and love in his movements. It took only one second more to realize the origin of the routine. His body froze too quickly and he stumbled to the ice.

    It was Viktor’s routine from the 2012 Grand Prix.

    If it was a dream, how could he have replicated the movements? How would his brain have the time to record them? Even if it had, his body moved without his conscious command. He was either a prodigy—an idea he knew to be false—or his dream hadn’t been a dream at all. It didn’t matter if it was improbable and previously thought to be impossible; he had definitely gone back in time.

    There, on the ice, he finally cried. He didn’t know how many emotions were wrapped up into each sob but he could clearly recognize the pain. Pain in knowing he was taken away from his love and thrust into a time when Viktor didn’t even know his name. But, through that, there was also joy. The memories were real. Their meeting and training and romance and marriage; all of it was real.

    Hot tears fell without pause to the ice below until his body became too cold to remain still any longer. Standing and wiping his face he habitually looked around to make sure there hadn’t been an audience. He scanned quickly, not really expecting to find anyone. His gaze was so fast, in fact, that his brain almost didn’t register the figure standing rinkside.

 

* * *

 

    Since waking in his hotel room he had been terrified. The world had changed around him during his sleep to a time where he thought he’d known the meaning of happiness. After a heartbreaking minute lying frozen in unadulterated grief his mind whirred to life. He moved and didn’t stop moving, finally appreciative of Yakov’s ludicrous training regimen requiring his days to begin at 5 am sharp. It had given him ample time to work through his horror and find his way to the train station on time for the earliest shinkansen. He had run from the Hasetsu bus station directly toward the first place he thought Yuuri might be.

    It took more willpower than he thought he possessed to remain where he was. Stepping into the familiar rink to see Yuuri collapsed and crying on the ice was more than he could bear but he couldn't move yet. He couldn't act the way he wanted to until his question was answered.

    ‘ _Do you remember me, Yuu-chan? Do you remember us?’_

    He smiled and waved at Yuuri, hiding the hurt he felt at the confusion on the other boys face. He wanted to see something more. Something like the suffering he had been feeling so he could know they were here together. He wanted to see joy and relief and every other emotion in the maelstrom of feelings inside him. But, he supposed, Yuuri always did try to hide his emotions while he wore his on his sleeve. Maybe that was why Yuuri had stayed in Hasetsu instead of trying to find him. Viktor was praying that was the case, for the alternative was far too bleak.

    After a few more agonizing seconds Yuuri skated toward him.

    “Hello! I’m-” He attempted an introduction but was interrupted.

    “Vikk- um, Viktor Nikiforov.”

    Yuuri’s voice sounded strangled, like the words were hard to get out. ‘ _That doesn’t help me._ _You have known my name for many years. Say something, anything. Show me you’re here with me Yuu-chan._ ’

    “Call me Viktor!”

    He shrugged off his jacket and lowered himself onto a bench and pulled on the skates he’d grabbed from behind the counter. There had been no time to even think of bringing his own but the loaner skates were well taken care of.

    “Do you mind if I join you?”

    As he spoke he kept his face down, focused on the laces of his skates. He couldn’t keep looking at the redness on Yuuri’s face, the shine on his cheeks of tears not fully wiped away. There was never a time when he knew exactly what to do when his partner cried, but doing nothing felt wrong.

    Ice that was parted by the sharp edge of his skates dusted the otherwise smooth surface as he pushed his way toward the center of the rink. Keeping his distance from Yuuri, who remained rooted to his spot by the sidelines, he practiced the routine he would be skating in just a few days. The last time he had performed it had been six years ago and although he remembered all of his routines, he was bound to be a little rusty.

    Halfway through he noticed Yuuri still had not moved. He slowed his movements and glided to to side. There had been over six hours in which he could have come up with a plan to find out if Yuuri had gone back in time with him but he had been so consumed in his chaotic emotions to think clearly. Now, looking into eyes that had just begun to recover from the tears they spilled, he knew exactly what to do.

    “Why?”

    He was surprised when Yuuri spoke first.

    “Pardon?”

    “Why are you here?”

    The question stung. There was nothing in his voice to indicate anything other than his shock. Viktor wanted to do away with subtleties and expose his situation with the hope that Yuuri, _his_ Yuuri, had experienced this curse with him but now was not the time. Now he had to pretend to be ignorant of just how closely Yuuri followed his career.

    “That’s a silly question. I’m here to win the Grand Prix Final.” He was graced with the slight blush of embarrassment on the other boys cheeks. “And,”

    He moved away with an anxiety he had never known toward center ice. After his performance he would know if Yuuri had been thrown back in time with him. The only way to keep his body moving properly was to believe wholeheartedly that they had come back together. He couldn’t accept any other possibility.

    The movements were so familiar to him and hopefully to his audience as well. He could hear the slow build of the piano in his mind, the rich Italian words that had previously captured the emptiness he felt when he choreographed the performance. Now he could only feel the anticipation in waiting for one voice to become two.

 

_Sento una voce che piange lontano_

_Anche tu, sei stato forse abbandonato?_

 

_Orsù finisca presto questo calice di vino_

_e inizio a prepararmi_

_Adesso fa’ silenzio..._

 

    The music playing just for him stopped as his body did. He faced Yuuri with his arm outstretched, beckoning him closer and mimicking the movements from the exhibition skate in which they had skated publicly for the first time. The final drop of composure left him and his legs shook, begging to propel him toward his love. He tensed, body leaning forward to appease the desire in him but Yuuri’s expression stopped him.

    Tears poured again from Yuuri’s red-rimmed eyes, over the hands that covered his mouth in shock. Suddenly he moved forward, much too fast, and Viktor felt himself crying too. He barely had time to brace himself as Yuuri barreled into him pushing them both to the ice. Their lips met, and Viktor smiled, remembering a similar situation years ago.

    Yuuri’s mouth left his and moved to his cheek, his nose, his forehead, his jaw. No inch of his face was left untouched. Viktor couldn’t help but laugh—it had taken him ages of overt affection to get Yuuri to respond in kind, and still it had never been like this.

    “Yuu-chan.”

    He whispered into Yuuri’s ear and revelled in the shiver that came from the body on top of him. Yuuri brought his head up to face him, their noses almost touching.

    “Did you miss me that much?”

    “You’re the one who traveled seven hours just to see me.”

    Their smiles were almost painful, and faded all too soon when Yuuri asked the question neither of them wanted to think of.

    “So, what do we do now?”

    “Hey, come on, you can’t do that here!” a loud and outraged voice called to them from the side of the rink.

    With only mild concern the two lovers shifted to see who addressed them. The woman's eyes grew wide—wider than humanly possible—before she collapsed onto the ground.

    “I hope Yuuko didn’t just have a heart attack.”

 

* * *

 

 

25th of December, 2009

 

    “Happy Birthday Vikku.” Yuuri nuzzled his face into the curve between Viktor’s neck and shoulder.

    After the Grand Prix Final, Viktor had refused to return to Russia with Yakov. (“Vitya! Where are you? Get back to this hotel at once!”) Although they both knew he would have to leave eventually, Viktor assured Yuuri he could stay until his birthday.

    It had been a little difficult to explain to his parents why _the_ Viktor Nikiforov was hanging onto him when they arrived back at Yuutopia. Minako had been there as well to chastise him for not returning home after leaving her studio. At the sight of the two skaters so obviously affectionate she shrieked one long, loud note until she finally passed out.

    Everyone in Yuuri’s life had cycled in and out of the onsen to gawk and question. Luckily, Viktor had taken the lead in the explanation. His constant smile and intensely happy attitude seemed to help the made-up story become believable. (“Yuuri didn't tell you? We've been talking since he sent an adorable letter of admiration to me!”)

    Somehow Yuuri had survived that particularly embarrassing ordeal and the ensuing celebratory dinner that followed. It seemed that after the initial shock faded, all of his loved ones accepted the sudden relationship as well as Viktor himself. That might have been due to the fact that Viktor knew how to win each and every one of them over due to his previous life knowledge.

    Everything they had gone through and learned from their previous experiences before their crazy travel back in time had remained. Every bit right down to the Japanese that Viktor had all but perfected and Yuuri's fluency in Russian. It made it easy to communicate with Yuuri's family and it aided Yuuri in his eavesdropping on Viktor’s phone conversations with his Russian team.

    Viktor had snuck out from the hotel right after the medal ceremony behind Yakov’s back. With the help of his team his absence went unnoticed until the day of their planned departure.

    'That _was an eventful day.’_

    If Viktor hadn't currently been lying next to him, Yuuri would have had a hard time believing the events of the past month. He moved to run his hands through long silver hair, causing a smile to form on Viktor's face who had been feigning sleep.

    “This is already the best birthday of my life.”

    “That's because you never got to see what I had planned for your thirtieth birthday.”

    Viktor's eyes popped open in surprise.

    “We're never ever celebrating that day!”

    Yuuri laughed and kissed Viktor on the cheek.

    “Im a little more sympathetic to your obsession with your hair,” Yuuri combed his fingers to the tips of Viktor's hair, “now that I've actually seen it this length.”

    Viktor mimicked the movement and brought the ends of his hair in front of his face.

    “It was fairly soon after the Tokyo Grand Prix Final that I cut my hair.”

    “Don't!” Yuuri's plea burst from his mouth before he could stop himself.

    Viktor raised a brow and moved his hand to Yuuri's face.

    “If you like it I'll keep it a while longer.”

    With his cheeks burning, Yuuri pushed his face back into Viktor's chest to hide his elation. Arms cradled him in place and the pair let out a simultaneous sigh, keen to stay in the moment for a while longer. Viktor would head back to Russia today, and before the week was out, Yuuri would leave for Detroit.

    “So,” Viktor broke the silence after a moment, “can we get married yet?”

    Laughter shook Yuuri's chest. He had heard that question since the day they reunited at Ice Castle. Yuuri's answer would be the same as it had every time Viktor asked.

    “When I've finished college.”

    “But that's so far away!”

    “Yes, but I know what it's like to be married to you and I don't want to spend the first five years of _this_ marriage twelve hours away from you by plane.”

    Viktor pouted and Yuuri couldn't stop the blush working its way down his body. That expression was so adorable. Suddenly, Viktor's expression brightened, arms tightening around Yuuri.

    “Can you imagine what Phichit will do when he finds out?”

    The rest of the morning involved intricate planning of how and when they would reveal their relationship to the very enthusiastic Thai skater.

 

* * *

 

25th of March, 2010

 

    “You mean to tell me that 'Mr. Mysterious’ is coming here today to whisk you away for a vacation?”

    No matter how many times Yuuri had responded to the question, Phichit would ask thirty minutes later.

    “He's not _mysterious,_ and yes, that's what's happening.”

    They were in their shared room. Phichit made himself at home on Yuuri's bed making his last-minute packing go even slower. This had been planned for months but Yuuri was playing into the idea that the trip was spontaneous to avoid his roommate from connecting any dots. After all, the reason he was leaving with Viktor was to watch him at the World Figure Skating Championship in Italy.

    “He sounds pretty mysterious to me. You never say his name, just cute little pet names. I’ve never seen you video chat with him and I’ve never heard his voice. You haven’t even shown me a picture of him!”

    As he spoke, Phichit began to sound more and more offended. Like keeping a relationship from him was the biggest betrayal of friendship one could imagine. Yuuri had to keep the smile that had been threatening to break out for hours at bay. He was saved fairly quickly when a knock sounded just minutes later.

    Without hesitation Phichit leapt from the bed and nearly barreled into the door in his hurry to swing it open. Yuuri turned around in time to see a blessedly long haired Viktor smiling brightly at his roommate.

    “You must be Phichit-kun! Yuu-chan has told me so much about you!”

    Something like a squeal got caught in Phichit’s throat. His whole body turned to Yuuri with eyes as wide as saucers. Viktor was now laughing heartily and Yuuri bit his lip from doing the same.

    “Mr. Mysterious.” Phichit mumbled.

    “Oh, is that me? I like that very much!” Viktor leaned into the room still smiling.

    “Viktor Nikiforov is Mr. Mysterious!?”

    Suddenly, Phichit was moving. He ran to his bed and all but tore his phone from the charger. Yuuri knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the photo storm would begin, so he turned to warn Viktor. Viktor, however, seemed to have no care in the world as he brushed his thumb across Yuuri’s lip, effectively rendering his mind blank.

    They kissed with such passion, the weight of each day they were apart lifting from them. For a few moments they were alone and gloriously oblivious to their surroundings. But, as all moments do, it ended.

    In his peripheral vision he saw Phichit rapidly typing away on his phone with an ecstatic smile on his face. His mind knew there would be a publicity storm, something they had avoided until now, but there was no possible way his friend hadn’t already posted on social media. He heard his phone begin to vibrate just as Phichit finally looked up from his phone, apparently satisfied.

    “I can’t believe this! This is the greatest day of my life! How long have you been dating? How did you meet? Oh! It must be so terrible to be apart! Awh, long distance romance!”

    Yuuri laughed heartily. Phichit’s reaction had been so much more than he would have expected. Now that they got him going, he knew he wouldn’t have a minute to himself until he and Viktor left for the airport. That was fine with him—so long as Viktor’s hand remained entwined with his.

 

* * *

 

4th of April, 2011

 

    “I’m very impressed Yuuri. You’re at a much more advanced stage than I was expecting.”

    His coach, Celestino, had been praising him since his arrival the previous year. Each time Yuuri would blush guiltily. Truly, he shouldn’t be able to do the things he was. It was only because he had already lived through all of his major skill increases that he was able to skate at the level he was.

    It felt a little like cheating to use his skill and knowledge to propel his career faster than it had in his previous life. Viktor had pushed him to do it though. (“If you don’t practice what you already know you’ll lose it and we’ll have to train you all over again.”) If he was being honest with himself, he revelled in having such advanced abilities earlier in his career. It would bring him to competing with Viktor much sooner than he had before.

    “I bet Viktor gives you some _special training_.”

    Phichit snuck out from behind Yuuri, words dripping with innuendo. Both Yuuri and Celestino blushed. Their coach seemed to prefer pretending that nothing was said, turning away and coughing in discomfort.

    “As a matter of fact,” Yuuri had begun to retort but the expectant gleam in Phichit’s eye made him shiver and his words faded to thin air.

    A little put out that his good natured goading yielded no results, Phichit pouted.

    “Remind me why you’re not taking me to see him in the World’s this month?”

    Yuuri rolled his eyes.

    “Because, Celestino said I could skate competitively next year and maybe place high in the Grand Prix Final if I stopped taking so much time off to see Vikku- I mean Viktor.”

    Phichit wiggled his eyebrows.

    “Well you tell _Vikku_ that I’ll be rooting for him!”

    Yuuri’s whole body burned and he skated away from Phichit and Celestino, heading aimlessly around the rink. He tried to busy his mind with the idea that he might stand on the podium with Viktor years earlier than he had before. It excited both of them to no end.

    ‘ _Maybe this time around I’ll give Vikku the five gold medals I promised._ ’

 

* * *

 

22nd of April, 2011

 

    ‘ _He’s scowling again._ ’

    Viktor eyed the young prodigy from across the changing room curiously. Yurio had been in a particularly foul mood for about a week. It struck Viktor as odd. By all accounts the young skater should have been excited to attend the competition in Moscow, even though he wouldn’t be competing himself.

    “Yurio.” He called sweetly, earning an even deeper frown.

    “You keep calling me that. That’s not my name old man.”

    “Well, I have two Yuuri’s in my life now, what am I supposed to do?”

    Yurio huffed and threw a towel at Viktor.

    “You knew me first, _he_ should have the stupid nickname.”

    “Hmmm, well I do call him Yuu-chan-” He was cut off by a gagging noise and smirked.

    “Nevermind. Just don’t ever say that again.”

    Viktor hummed a response, amused, and continued readying himself in silence. After a moment or two he noticed Yurio’s eyes turning to him more than once before shying away quickly. He raised a brow but didn’t address it. He knew if the young boy had something to say not much would stop him from saying it.

    “Why isn’t that idiot coming this week anyway?”

    ‘ _Ah. So that’s it._ ’

    Though he would never admit it, and would scream dissent at anyone who tried to make him, Yurio had really grown fond of Yuuri. Perhaps it was the fact that, in this life, they met under much different circumstances. They were no longer competing for Viktor’s attention and training. This time, they got to know each other in a way that made it near impossible for Yurio not to enjoy the other skaters presence.

    “He’s going to focus on training.” Viktor said lightly, casting a sidelong glance to gauge Yurio’s reaction.

    He grunted in response but remained stationary.

    “So, that means he’s going to visit less.”

    Viktor made a small noise of affirmation.

    “Well, whatever. He can do what he wants anyway.”

    It became near impossible for Viktor to keep his composure. He wanted to fawn over the obvious affection Yurio had for Yuuri but he didn’t want to ruin the moment.

    “If you want I can tell him to video chat with you more often?”

    His words were quiet, as if he were speaking to an animal that might get spooked and bolt at any moment. He could see the recoil in Yurio’s body but still the boy remained.

    “Do what you want. I don’t care.”

    With his final words, Yurio left. Viktor would bet money that, if he managed to catch up to him, Yurio would have a smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

9th of December, 2012

 

    _The world of figure skating was turned upside-down yesterday at the culmination of the Grand Prix Final competition in Sochi, Russia. Known favorite and living legend, Viktor Nikiforov, was challenged by a little-known Japanese skater, Katsuki Yuuri. Fans were on the edge of their seats as Katsuki surpassed one skater after another with his successful short program for a spot just behind Nikiforov._

_In yesterday’s free skate Katsuki shocked the world by scoring a full point above the previous world record set by Nikiforov himself! Despite that, Nikiforov seemed unconcerned, even elated at his opponents success. Many, including this reporter, were shocked at the prospect of having such a dark horse claim the gold medal over an accomplished skater such as Nikiforov._

_In his own free skate, however, fans saw a more intimate, innocent side of Nikiforov. His performance to ‘Stay Close to Me’ was so heartbreakingly beautiful that the audience remained silent for the entirety of the piece. A deafening eruption of cheers followed him even as he left the ice, bolstered further by his final score. Although he remained some points behind Katsuki for the free skate, the addition of the previous day's short program gave him the highest total score, securing his fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final gold medal._

_But, readers, remain seated for if you missed the podium ceremony and the following exhibition skate, because your legs are sure to buckle now._

_After an appreciative wave to the adoring crowd and a charming kiss to his gold medal, Nikiforov turned his attention to Katsuki. It seemed, at first, that the two would share a few encouraging or flattering words to each other. To the shock of the entire arena they embraced with the familiarity of old friends. The murmurings then turned to outright screaming as the gold and silver medalist locked lips passionately for all to see._

_You read that right. It seems that Nikiforov and Katsuki are an item! If that information was not enough to convince you, the pair performed an exhibition skate to an original piece made just for them entitled, ‘Forever, Again’. Such passion in their movements along with a simply touching score left no doubt in the eyes of many as to the intimacy of their relationship._

_Although in recent years a handful of well-known figure skaters have been open with LGBTQIA+ relationships, this marks the first documented couple to share the ice. Their open adoration for each other has already inspired many, both in the community and out. Some have even called for a change in the definition of Pair Skating to make the category more inclusive. While such things may be many years off, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched to attribute this rise in interest to Nikiforov and Katsuki’s bold profession of love._

 

_*2012/12/10 Update: The aforementioned couple was spotted at the Sochi International Airport sporting matching rings! They have yet to comment on the meaning, but a source close to the two and a fellow figure skater has said that wedding bells are in the near future._


End file.
